Short Prose
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Lucidity
Have I told you that you’re the clearest thought that settles somewhere in the back of a shadowed mind, and gently, inch by inch, lights it up, until I’m smiling again though my eyes are bloodshot and I’m staring like someone catatonic, looking through the phases of my life? You may not notice the smile,… Continue reading
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When words on a page no longer matter
I’d give up all my words to spend an eternity with you. I’d crumple these sentences and toss them in the bin. I’d give up on language, meaning, symbols, hieroglyphics, and the art of saying one thing and meaning another if time ceased, and perpetuity carried us, making us drift through stars, planets and comets. A… Continue reading
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Men of perdition
The clip found its way to YouTube, and my friends in college showed it to others on their phones as if it were a video of a back-heel nutmeg by Ronaldinho. I was guilty too, simply because I shared in the excitement. Many years later, it haunted me. He knelt, reading out something they’d forced… Continue reading
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Closure
I met another version of him after three years: a different avatar. I wanted to meet him after reading one of his recently published poems. The tone of the piece showed a shift from his earlier work. His initial writing was effervescent, or like David’s psalms, began on a note of melancholia and then drifted… Continue reading
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Innocence within the femme fatale
There’s something about her writing that brings me back. It isn’t a Fitzgeraldean crescendo, building up in the tender night, tugging at your heartstrings eloquently and ethereally. No, it’s sprinkled with sawdust and rusty nails, but once you dig deeper—at the risk of getting injured—you’ll find a hidden gem with so much depth and candour:… Continue reading
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Hey
I haven’t heard from you in months. I hope you’re well and only wish the best for you. You foxtrotted into my life, burning brightly and setting the dance floor of my fate on fire. You changed things; introduced me to Jeff VanderMeer and Anne Rice; imprinted your word on my heart, and then left,… Continue reading
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Rambling
I was reading Thich Nhat Hanh this morning because Christianity never worked for me, and I can’t grasp the essence of Hinduism. I was reading his exposition of the four noble truths and the eightfold path. I was reading him because the positive existentialism of Viktor Frankl only gave me momentary catharsis, and nihilism is… Continue reading
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Them
Before they arrived, we had our ideas of what they’d be like, and we often wondered if they existed. But when they did, our powers of comprehension failed us, and we couldn’t fathom who they were and what they did to our world. I remember that day more than any other. We didn’t see spaceships… Continue reading
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On rainy days and contemplation
I walk on a cobblestone path in the drizzle, passing construction sites and industrial areas in the grey twilight of the evening. I skirt a puddle or two, but I’m not trying to escape the rain. It’s the only thing I’ve ever known. The sky darkens with each step I take, and an ambulance sings… Continue reading
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The great addiction
I used to buy a pack of Marlboro Reds from a dingy cigarette shop on the street outside my apartment complex. I’d then return, sit on my balcony infused with the neon twilight of dusk, smoke and convulse in the throes of guilt. What am I doing with my life? Does this all end in… Continue reading
About Me
Ordinary Person is a guy who likes to write. He writes fiction, essays, poems and other stuff.
Ordinary Person 